I was out on a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner when I performed CPR on a homeless man who had a heart attack, even though my boyfriend threatened to leave me. Little did I know that my kindness would come back to me in the most unexpected way.
I was buzzing with excitement. My boyfriend Jordan had invited me out for a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner, and I had the feeling he was about to pop the question.
So I wore my favorite little black dress and elegant high heels, a far cry from the sensible flats and the scrubs I wore for work. I was a nurse at a hospital, and days like these when I got to dress fancy were rare.
I was so much in love with Jordan. I thought our date would be the beginning of the best night of my life. I had never imagined everything would go wrong…
Jordan picked me up at eight o’clock that evening in a limo, and we drove downtown. I was thrilled when we stopped in front of the city’s tallest building, at the top of which was a famous restaurant.
“Jordan, the Top Hat? Really?” I gasped that he had chosen this place for our date.
“Only the best for my girl,” he said with a smile and helped me step out of the limo. The driver pulled away from the curb, and it was then I saw an odd movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head and saw a man leaning against the wall.
He was deadly pale and sweating, and he was rubbing his left shoulder and grimacing. I immediately walked towards him. “Sir, are you alright?” I asked.
The man, who was wearing ragged clothes, opened his vivid blue eyes and made an effort to smile. “I’m alright, thank you,” he replied, and I was surprised by his beautiful voice and educated accent.
Then suddenly, he collapsed, and I called out to Jordan: “Call 911; this man is having a heart attack!”
Jordan grabbed his phone, and I knelt on the pavement next to the man and tried to take his pulse. It was erratic and weak, and I started chest compressions.
“They are on their way,” Jordan told me when he got off the phone. Then he frowned as he saw me tilt the man’s head back to clear the airway. “Mary! You are not putting your mouth on that man!” he said.
I looked up at him in shock. “What else can I do, Jordan? He’s not getting enough oxygen!”
“If you do mouth-to-mouth on this bum, I’m NEVER kissing you again,” he screamed. “We’re finished!”
“Then I guess we’re finished,” I said quietly. And without further ado, I started doing mouth-to-mouth on the unconscious man. Jordan stood there for a few minutes, then with a cry of outrage, he turned his back and walked away.
I alternated the chest compressions with the mouth-to-mouth until the ambulance arrived, then rode back to the hospital with the homeless man. At one point, he opened his eyes and smiled at me. “Angel…” he whispered, and I held his hand.
Once we were in the hospital, which happened to be the one where I worked, the doctors swiftly took the man away as I stood in the lobby in my black dress and high heels. “Happy Valentine’s Day to me!” I told myself ruefully.
It was then that one of the administrators came to me and asked about the man. Who was he? Did he have insurance? I explained that I didn’t know.
Maybe the man has an ID in his wallet? I wondered.
I got the man’s wallet from his discarded clothes. His name was Jake, and he had a phone number with the notation ‘Mom’ in one of the compartments of his wallet.
I called the number and immediately heard a response. “Hello?” said a calm, feminine voice.
“Good evening,” I said. “Are you a relative of someone named Jake?”
“Jake?” the woman gasped. “Jake is my son! Where is he? What’s happened?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Burlington,” I said. “But Jake had a heart attack, and he’s at St. George’s Hospital in intensive care.”
“Please,” the woman said. “Wait for me, and I’ll be there in half an hour!”
Half an hour later, a tall, elegant woman in her sixties hurried into the hospital lobby and walked up to the reception. “I’m Jake’s mother,” she said. “How is my son?”
I approached Mrs. Burlington. “Mrs. Burlington? I’m the nurse who accompanied your son to the hospital.”
“You did?” she asked. “You’re his friend?”
I smiled at her innocence. “I was on my way to dinner when I saw your son having a heart attack on the street, so I gave him CPR,” I said.
Mrs. Burlington grabbed my hand. “Thank you, and thank you for saving his life.”
It was then that the doctor came and told us that Jake was conscious and that we could see him for a minute.
Jake was very pale and hooked up to IVs, but he gave me a radiant smile. “Angel…” he whispered, and then he saw his mother.
“Jake!” Mrs. Burlington sobbed. “Oh, darling, forgive me! I miss you so much! I know I was wrong…”
But Jake shook his head, took his mother’s hand, and kissed it. Then he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Mrs. Burlington and I walked out of the room, and I put my arm around her shoulders to console the older woman.
“I kicked my son out ten years ago because he refused to take over the family business. He wanted to be an artist,” she revealed. “I thought he’d change his mind and come crawling back, but he never did! I saw some reviews of his work, and they were fabulous, but it seems he’s still struggling…”
The doctor explained to Mrs. Burlington that Jake was suffering from long-term malnutrition, which had led to a heart attack. “Your son needs care, rest, and good food, and he will recover fully,” he said.
And Jake did start to recover. I found myself popping into his room several times during the day just to check on him and to see the wonderful smile that lit up his blue eyes when he saw me.
When Jake was ready to go home, he told me he was in love with me. I had to admit that I was falling for the struggling artist, too.
A few days after Jake was released, I was stunned when my bank manager called me, telling me I had received a substantial deposit — a million dollars in my account.
When I asked Mrs. Burlington, she told me she wanted to thank me for all my care and my attention to her son.
“I don’t want to think what could have happened if you hadn’t stepped in for my baby,” she said. “And I know you’ve been wanting to start a business on the side. Jake told me about it. This is just a small help towards that.”
I had tears in my eyes. Jake moved back into his mother’s house, and she promised to respect his decisions.
Soon, Mrs. Burlington financed an exhibition of Jake’s paintings in a major art gallery, and by the end of the evening, he was a star.
He could eventually afford to buy a studio for himself, and soon after that, he asked me to marry him.
Exactly a year later, Jake and I married in the most romantic Valentine’s Day wedding anyone had ever seen.
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